


Leave Me Where I Lie

by EWBANH



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Destruction, Disregards Borderlands 3 DLC, Gen, Isolation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Skips, description of corpses, not all characters are tagged for sake of content/small scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EWBANH/pseuds/EWBANH
Summary: Handsome Jack dies and ‘Jack’ dies with him.Timothy Lawrence is presented with a new start and an opportunity to learn what it means to be Tim again.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Leave Me Where I Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place at the Fall of Helios in an AU where Timothy Lawrence was still on Helios after Handsome Jack’s death and never on The Handsome Jackpot. It takes place a good 5-6 years before Borderlands 3 and frankly plays little regard to the canon events of that game and is honestly just a big AU I created for fun (that may or may not connect with another fic of mine ;) ) It has various time skips, varying from days apart to weeks and months.
> 
> Title from Sky Full of Song by Florence + The Machine. 
> 
> TW: Suicidal ideation, mass destruction, mentions of torture, and graphic Injury.

Timothy Lawrence has not had a very easy life. And he probably won’t have an easy death either. 

Tim doesn’t think he’s ready to die yet. 

He hasn’t had the joy of actually standing on the planet below his home, nor has he had the privilege of finding true love. He’s spent a _lot_ of his adulthood working and his childhood moping. His heart was always searching, not just for love, but for a real purpose, a _reason_. 

Tim doesn’t have too much time to think about his life, not when the base that has been his home for years is hurtling towards Pandora.

So Tim does what he considers himself best at. Tim runs. 

The tile flooring of Helios echoes below his boots. He’s thankful at least for being _this_ prepared for death, his too-large, bright yellow Hyperion hoodie shielding his already marred skin from the flames around him. He runs past his colleagues who have never really liked him much, his hoodie over his head. His eyes barely register the ghost of his nightmares on every screen around him, cursing a no-name as he focuses on putting one foot in front of another. 

There’s only a handful of pods by the time Tim gets to his destination, his eyes widening in horror at the pure chaos around him. He doesn’t focus on it too hard, afraid he might hesitate to save his own life once again, before climbing into one of the last pods. He looks to his right, watching as a pod fails to launch, immediately exploding with someone inside. 

Tim only holds himself tighter, screwing his eyes shut as he prays to whatever entity is out there. He prays for mercy, he prays for refuge.

He prays for a new start. 

Tim isn’t sure if he should thank the bastard who did this or kill them.

* * *

The wreckage around Tim is filled with screaming near-corpses and fire. He hasn’t even left his escape pod and Tim can already smell death.

He forces himself out from the enclosure, his eyes wide despite the desperate voice in his mind telling him to _not look._ His gaze searches the wreckage, not sure what he’s looking to find. Screams erupted from beside him, startling him a few feet in the air. His boots dragged through the rubble, nearly singeing at the heat from the metal debris. 

Smoke obscured the sky, flames only growing around Tim with each moment he lingered. Escape pods continued to land around him, one too many exploding on impact. The world shook with each crash, Tim’s shaking hands held out to keep him upright, terrified that if he falls he won’t get back up again. His muscles quivered with each step through the debris, only to nearly buckle as something wrapped around his calf.

Tim spun around, staring to the ground as he pulled his leg away, his eyes shooting wide open at the sight of a nearly burnt _person_ lying beneath a metal obstruction. Their badge hung loosely around their neck, too much blood seeping from a gaping wound in their scalp. Tim’s eyes searched what little of their torso he could see, his heart catching in his throat at the sight of metallic wreckage going _through them._

“H-Help- Help-” 

The violent trembling of Tim’s lips rendered him silent, his body moving on auto pilot as he crouched beside the fallen Hyperion. He watched as they raised a bloodied hand to his mask, too weak to hold on as his gaze met theirs. 

_“J-Jack?”_

Tim shakes his head quickly, pulling his face out of their bloody grip, stumbling onto his backside.

“No-No I’m not- I’m not Jack!” He cries out. 

His words fall on deaf ears, the crackling flames around him growing louder as the body stilled between the wreckage. His eyes flickered between the corpse and approaching flames, his legs barely strong enough to carry him as he stood up. 

Tim looked around the chaos, the screams of agony and cries for help only growing louder. It’s not until a loud explosion, what Tim believes to be the rest of Helios, shakes the whole world, that he hits his head head against the rubble _hard,_ his world going dark.

* * *

The next time Tim wakes up, it’s to the sound of _people._ The crackling fire echoes around him but it’s the feeling of hands on his shoulders that jolts his eyes open. He stares up at an unknown man, the man’s blue eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses yet filled with just as much fear as his. 

“Hey-Hey dude, y-you okay?!” He turns his head in the other direction, shouting to another person with words that Tim struggles to understand in his own panic.

He sits up, nearly bashing his head against the man’s face, before crawling away. The man’s hands are held out, almost as if to keep Tim from bolting. 

It’s not enough.

 _Are you not scared of me?_ Tim wants to cry, his whole body shaking too much for him to speak. _You're supposed to hate me!  
_

“Wh-What’s your name?! I-I can help,” The man stammers out, looking genuinely worried about him, which makes zero sense. 

Tim had the face of a murderer. He had the face of a genocidal parasite. He had the very voice of the man that Helios failed to mourn, that Helios threw away like trash, just like him. 

“Come on, hey–” 

Tim doesn’t let the man finish, his body moving faster than he can control as he’s up and running in the opposite direction. He hears the stranger shout for him but Tim can’t care. His figure sprints through the foundation of Helios, he stumbles around aimlessly, in any direction to get away. His eyes refuse to look at the bodies littering the ground, his hands shaking as he looks to his right. 

A large statue stares into his very being, shimmering in gold with a face that’s too much like his. If it had a voice, it would sound just like him. It would smile like him, it’s eyes would crinkle the same way. 

Handsome Jack stares and Timothy stares back. 

* * *

Tim waits until it’s dark, till he’s sure no one in the nearly empty town is around. He walks through the streets, his hoodie over his head as he cuts into the alleyways. The world of Pandora is surprisingly quiet, unlike what he’s been told, but Tim can’t complain. 

He climbs over a fence, notices a clothesline, and apologizes silently. His hands work quick, taking off anything that looks slightly his size and shoving it into a satchel bag that definitely didn’t belong to him. He looks around quickly, making sure he’s truly alone, before pulling off his bloodstained hoodie. His arms work to slide on a black long sleeve and too big aviators jacket, shoving the hood immediately over his head. He instantly messed with his hair, frowning in frustration before making his way back out of the yard once more.

Tim has his mind set on where he needs to go, where he’ll be safe and on his own until the world forgets about Handsome Jack. 

He’s going to need a lot of jackets.

* * *

Everything Tim knew about Pandora was… rather correct, in a sense. The mornings were extremely hot, the locals were, for the most part, assholes, and the animals that roamed the land were dangerous. 

He discovers just how dangerous a Skag pup can be, thankful the beast below him was a bad climber. 

So Tim sits in a tree, eating a questionable fruit as he stares out into the canyons of Pandora. The sun is slowly setting and Tim feels safe enough to lower his hood, letting his hair shift in the wind. He tries his hardest not to look to the west, to keep his eyes off the outline of a floating city where he thinks he might be able to explain just _a little bit._ He knew a few Vault Hunters, at least a few that wouldn’t want him dead on sight. It would be too hard to explain to the people he didn’t know the truth. 

His face was his curse and his alone to bear. 

And Tim doesn’t move, he sighs, taking another bite of whatever fruit he ate, casting a curious glance down to the pup below him before looking out in the canyons. He plans his next few days, knowing he’ll need to commit a few more petty theft crimes to get him where he needs to go with a promise that he'll disappear from society for good, vowing to not be a reminder of the harbinger of death. 

He would die if he wasn’t just starting life again as Timothy Lawrence.

Maybe he was a tad bit selfish, maybe he did truly want to live a new life. Sure, it would be hard with the mask and even harder with the scar over his face, but Timothy was patient. He could wait a few years, maybe even find a good doctor to reconstruct his face. 

Tim sighs, throwing the core of his fruit down onto the pup’s head with little regard before wiping his sticky hands on the front of his jeans. He sits up in his branch, reaching back his right sleeve of his jacket.

His eyes narrow in on the freckle smack in the center of his skin between the inside of his elbow and his wrist. A ghost of a smile spreads over his lips, running the pad of his thumb over the mark. His touch was gentle, paying little mind to the few faint scars he had from his time on Elpis, his eyes refusing to leave the freckle. He had hid it from the doctors, begged the only one who noticed to look the other way. 

Tim looked back out at the canyon, his grip not faltering as another sigh left his tired figure. 

* * *

Tim knew his way around a gun, he knew how to navigate vehicles and he also knew how to hold his ground. 

That didn’t mean that he was immune to messing up in a rather catastrophic way.

Tim’s lungs burned as he ran, his hands moving to throw down a pile of boxes to stop the small gang chasing him. He had only a few bullets left despite having at _least_ another week’s journey ahead of him.

Pain erupted from his right ankle as he nearly fell into a hole within the concrete road, his whole body stumbling forward, barely catching himself on the side of a building. Tim didn’t bother turning around, or even checking on his foot, as he sped forward, his eyes wide and searching for any source of salvation.

A bustling street greeted Tim within seconds, his eyes searching the few crowds before crossing the makeshift road. He tried his hardest to quickly duck through the crowds, hoping to lose his assailants before turning down another alley. His head turned behind him, finding the trio of scum still chasing him, one of them shouting a rather obscene curse at him. 

By the time Tim turns back around, he’s nearly run into a deadend, a too high fence standing in front of him. He gasps, spinning back to face the trio, only to find them only a few yards away. The closest of the three held a big rifle, smirking while the other two carried bats, holding them up with large grins. 

_Oh shit._

Tim pulled out his sorry excuse of a gun, looking them over as best he could while hiding his face with his hood. He held it behind his back, his heart racing as he stared over the three.

“Think you could just steal our motherfuckin’ bike with no repercussions?” The middle of the three hissed, still smirking. 

Tim didn’t even have the chance to reply, barely even bringing his pistol to his front before a loud bang erupted from the top right. His eyes widened dramatically as the trio fell over, a flash of metal the only sign of an assailant. He looked up to the roof of the building, a shadowy figure standing atop, staring down at him. 

_This is worse._

“What’d you do to them?” The figure spoke, dropping in front of him, wearing a similar hood over their head.

Tim swallows slowly, his gaze shifting between the approaching figure and bodies behind them, his heart racing. He was scared to speak, scared to meet the similar fate as the trio on the ground, still keeping his face low. His hand was tight around the weapon in his palm, prepared to raise it, only for the person to step into the light. 

The man’s jaw fell, standing up straight. 

_“Athena?”_

By the time Tim reacted, Athena was already in his face, her shield against his neck, her hand ripping his own hood off his head. A fearful cry caught in his throat as he met her icy gaze, surprise taking over her features as she stared.

“Timothy?!” 

Tim smiles weakly, hiding the way his heart skipped a beat at the woman’s recognition of _him,_ not ‘Jack’ _._ He watches as she all but drops her shield, stepping back with a wide gaze, looking him over. 

“Holy shit,” She cursed, her voice quiet. “Y-You’re fucking alive!?” 

“Tada,” Tim replies rather pathetically, shrugging as he fixed his jacket over his chest. The woman’s gaze refused to leave him, her eyes looking him over in what appeared to be shock, familiarity, and disbelief. 

“I thought you died-” She pauses, shaking her head before swallowing the lump in her throat. “-How- when?!”

Tim doesn’t know how to answer so he doesn’t. Thankfully for him, Athena doesn’t pry. Instead she nods in the direction of the alley, leading him over the groaning gang members and back into the street. He follows her wordlessly, almost worried she’ll lead him to more people when all he really wanted to do is disappear.

The two are on the top of a roof in one of the many buildings in Hollowpoint. She hands him a drink and Tim doesn’t care much as he holds it in his still shaking hands, taking a large gulp. Athena sits beside him, her own hands holding a glass as she looks over the city.

“Janey’s asked about you a bunch,” She murmured, taking a long sip. 

Tim is almost taken aback. He would be, were they talking about anyone else. 

“I’ll… come back,” Tim mumbles, his voice grating his ears. “Just… after a little bit.” 

Athena doesn’t reply, taking another sip. Her eyes scan the city, lingering on a large building that Tim put together to be a garage. He looks over to her, then back at the city. 

“Have you married her yet?” 

The question gets one of those rare genuine panics out of Athena, her eyes widening as she sits up a bit, her shield resting against the side of her chair. She clears her throat, not looking over to the man.

“She asked.” 

“And you said?” Tim questions, almost regretting his words. 

Athena licks her lips, nodding her head a bit. “I asked her why she took so long,” She states, refusing to look over.

Tim smiles and it almost hurts, his eyes locked on the small shade of pink over her cheeks. “When’s the wedding?” 

“We’re still planning it,” Athena answers quickly, finally looking over with raised brows. “You better come. Or I’ll find you, wherever you’re going. You know I will.”

It’s one of the few threats Tim isn’t too scared of, his grin growing as he looks back out to the city. 

“I’ll do you one better,” He replies, looking back over. “I’ll be your best man.” 

Athena laughs and Tim almost feels okay again. 

* * *

The cold wind of Pandora’s icy north had Tim nearly regretting every little bit of his plan. His layers of jackets were nearly worthless as the chill bit into his skin. The vehicle gifted to him by Athena was lost in the storm, practically destroyed by the weather.

Yet Tim couldn’t give up, not when he was this close. 

The distant growl of Bullymongs did little to sway Tim’s perseverance, his mind focused on getting through the blizzard. He struggled to see through the storm, his arms wrapped around himself, his feet sinking into the thick layer of snow that was still piling up. 

Various bodies were resting against large metallic obstructions in the otherwise white wilderness. Their yellow outfits stuck out against their surroundings, the remains of a train littering the space as Tim approached his destination. He dares to look inside one of the train cars, immediately flinching at the sign still hanging within.

_Welcome Vault Hunters!_

Tim shakes his head, forcing himself forward. His legs struggle going uphill, the snow and wind pushing against him. 

He’s made it this far. 

The snow dunes only grew bigger in size but Tim continued, his eyes locking on the large glacial fortress ahead. His chest nearly burst in relief, a new wave of determination flowing through him.

After Handsome Jack’s death, Tim was thrown away like a piece of space garbage by Hyperion. He was disgraced, sought out by the corporate overlords to be killed, but Tim had begged like the dying man he was to live. His role was removed and his life once again thrown for a loop as he was sent to do the dirty work of Helios. He lived in the lower levels, amongst various deactivated CL4P-TPs and disregarded Loader Bots, throwing out space trash and launching any excess to Pandora’s wasteland. Tim had a favorite place, one where little people resided as he hoped to keep harm out of Pandora's daily life. 

It was not known to many and perfect for Tim. 

The nearly frozen-over door didn’t prove that much of a foe to Tim, his shoulder slamming into a few times before it gave way. The hollowed out igloo inside was barely sufficient enough to keep Tim warm, yet the man continued deeper into the fortress, his gaze locked on the large furnace in the center almost immediately. Relief came in the form of logs already in the large metal entrapment. 

Tim searched the dark, frigid, and empty fortress, a smile growing over his lips. 

* * *

Tim works hard. He spends nearly sixteen hours fixing up the makeshift igloo, his mind barely caring about who seems to have lived there before. He eats Bullymong meat and even finds a few plants that grow in the climate. They’re nearly as resilient as he is.

But Tim also spends a lot of his time doing a lot of nothing. He hates the icy interior more than anything, his reflection shining back at him in almost every corner of the small fortress. Tim works on cleaning the place up, the furnace burning at all times as he sometimes finds himself reading on the couch, taking in the warmth. There aren’t many books but Tim finds it entertaining enough to read about old Hyperion manuals, sometimes even going as far as to play with the mechanics of a few deactivated CL4P-TP units that were littered in the icescape, hoping to revive them once more. He thinks fondly of a certain robot. 

It wasn’t much but it was peace and Tim couldn’t really be too bothered to hate it. 

His thoughts would often drift to his friends, or at least acquaintances. Athena had promised not to mention his existence to anyone, even Janey. He wonders how Nisha is, if any of the few kind Hyperion workers had survived Helios’ fall thought about him. 

Tim forces himself not to think about that day too hard. Or much of his time on Helios.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since his world crashed and was built back up again. 

It’s a dark, boring, average night when Tim is relaxing on the same old couch that his attention is caught by a bright flash, his brows furrowing as he looks to the ceiling. His eyes widen almost dramatically as he jumps up and off the couch, his sweatpants loosely hanging off his legs with only a t-shirt on his chest, sprinting to the recently repaired door. He stumbles out into the cold and ice, his eyes locked up at the sky as the world burns white. He’s scared, practically fearing his death, only for the flash to disappear as quickly as it came. 

The northern lights return, their colors reflecting off the snow like nothing occurred. The wind picks back up just enough to tousle Tim’s hair.

An ingrained part of Tim wants to run to Sanctuary, to let them know of the phenomenon that occurred. He nearly runs back inside to grab his shoes and leave, the urge to do so disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. 

The Crimson Raiders would turn him away. Most people would. He wasn’t sure what he still owed to them or anyone on Pandora. No one tried to save him, no one cared enough.

Tim enters his fortress once again, his socks now uncomfortably wet. 

* * *

Sometimes Tim forgets the face he has isn’t his own. Not because he acts or feels like the bastard, although there were times he said things he never means to. But rather it’s the creeping realizations he achieves upon catching his own eyes in a reflection. 

There were days where Tim kept his hood on, even with no one around. Days where he wears extra baggy clothes and days where he stares at the lone freckle on his arm- he has its shape and color memorized almost as good as he has his face. 

His face. Or what was left of it. 

The large scar that dug into his skin made him sick. Tim refuses to ever take his mask off, even alone, especially alone. He doesn’t want to remember the agony, the pain. He doesn’t want to think about the other clones that were killed for fighting back, for protesting. 

He doesn’t want to think about the bastard’s maniacal laughter alongside his own tear-filled pleading. 

It wasn’t fair.

Tim wanted nothing more than to lay down in the snow and give in. There were times he’d open the door, stare out into the frigid weather. Where he’d take a step, flinch at the cold, then return back to his couch.

Tim really didn’t want to die. Jack did.

The man sighs, pulling the ugly makeshift blanket he made from various Hyperion coats he picked off dead bodies over him. He’s not sure how long he’ll hide, how long he’ll wait, but Tim can’t deny the peace that comes with being alone.

Tim doesn’t have to hear the grating voice that he now owned. He didn’t have to think about how other people see him as _him._ He doesn’t have to worry about keeping his head down, about not getting angry. 

It was nice but the deep, ebbing pain within his chest only grew with each passing day. 

Tim really, _really,_ wanted friends. He wanted people who wouldn’t look at him and flinch. People who wouldn’t try to hurt him, who wouldn’t curse his very existence. 

He thinks about the one date he went on, he thinks about the heavy make-up, the sharp and intoxicating perfume. He thinks about the flow of her words, the way she reached for his right arm, her hand landing just over the freckle hidden beneath his suit. 

Tim isn’t one to hope, but he also truly is. 

It takes a beat but Tim sits up. His gaze is steady on the fire, it’s crackling the only noise beside the violent wind outside. He thinks hard, he thinks about a solution, about a plan. A way to feel wanted, wanted in the way he _wants._

Tim stares into the fire. No one stares back.

* * *

Tim easily lost count of the months he’s been hidden from the world. He still wants to leave, he still plans to do so. 

But things were very hard if you had the face and voice of a warmonger. 

Tim puts his thoughts aside as he’s jolted up from his couch. His eyes are wide, his chest in pain at the fast beating of his heart. 

Someone, some _people,_ were outside of his home.

Tim is quick to grab his old pistol, holding it tightly in his right palm as he stared at the door. He’s too frazzled to put his hood up, to try and hide, so he meets the assailants head on. 

He’s nowhere near prepared for the two who step in front of him.

“What the _fuck.”_

Tim recognized the red-haired woman. He knew her from his nightmares, he knew her from his memories. He knew her legacy, her role in his own personal hell. He doesn’t have time to focus on her as every electronic in the room, his various lights and few trinkets nearly blow. His whole body flinches, losing his grip on his pistol as he falls back. 

Tim doesn’t have enough time to recover as the red haired woman is standing over him, her own electrical gun pointed down at him. He can’t help the way his body trembles, nor the way his whole chest heaves. 

“I didn’t think you lived,” The woman sneers, almost disgusted by his very existence. 

Tim would be offended, truly, if her words didn’t mean she recognized him. 

“What are you doing!?” A shrill voice cries from behind, calling for Tim’s frazzled and terrified attention. His gaze locks on the black haired woman, her right arm lit up from beneath her jacket, her icy blue eyes boring into his very existence.

 _“Kill him!”_

Lilith steps away, her gun still on Tim as she turns to the younger woman, her hand wrapping around her hand as if to calm her. 

“He’s not the real one,” Lilith mutters, frowning as she looks at the man. “He’s just made to look like him. Do you remember the cloning project?” 

Tim doesn’t quite know how his voice returns but he’s not too happy with the way he sounds. 

“What is g-going on?” He stutters, only to flinch at the younger girl’s hands jolting up to her ears, covering them as if she were in pain. 

“Hey-Hey, Angel!” Lilith cries out, tucking her gun into her waistband as she turns to the woman. She’s immediately wrapped into the red-haired woman’s arm. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Tim cries out, not entirely sure why. He meets Lilith’s glare, the woman’s gaze fiery as she speaks. 

“Wh-What the fuck are you even doing here!?”

Tim doesn’t know what to say, he’s too focused on the younger woman’s eyes locked on his, a haunting look in her eyes, the same look that often stared back at him. She looks him over from within Lilith’s arms, not daring to step closer as their gazes meet.

“Oh who gives a shit.” 

The sudden shuffling from Lilith is more than enough to jolt Tim’s gaze back onto her, a gasp barely leaving him as the barrel of the gun stares back. He only has a second to screw his eyes shut, bracing himself for the never-ending darkness, only for the gun to click. The woman pulls the trigger more than a few times, nearly growling before looking at the younger woman in her arm, brows furrowed in confusion. 

Angel pulls away, slowly, not daring to step any closer to Tim. She looks him up and down once again, refusing to answer to Lilith’s questions. 

Tim could only stare back, wracking his brain for _where_ he heard that name. 

It hits at once and Tim is more than prepared to vomit up his subpar breakfast.

 _Angel._ The name of Handsome Jack’s daughter. The siren who powered the Vault Key. The one who died for Hyperion. Executives had used her and Handsome Jack to show how one can devote their whole life to the company. How family and friends meant nothing. Torturing your daughter for years on end was alright, even encouraged by the higher-ups in the name of bettering the company.

Angel. Another victim. 

“I-I’m not- I’m Tim,” He stammers out, horrified at the realizations hitting him. His gaze flickers between Lilith’s disgruntled look and Angel's devastated face. “I-I’m– H-He made me l-like this.” 

Lilith only rolls her eyes. “You need to get out, I don’t care where you go or what you do,” She steps closer, reaching for Tim but the man only scoots away, terrified. 

“I-I’ll leave- d-don’t touch me!” He almost shouts, his back against the couch, his chest heaving fast as he saw stars. 

“I’ll drop you off at Hollowpoint,” She states, annoyed. “That’s it. You figure everything else on your own.” 

Tim’s eyes burn with angry tears, knowing there’s no point in fighting the woman. But he does anyway. 

“Here you go again, d-doing whatever the f-fuck you want without giving a _shit_ about what happens!” He hisses, climbing to a stand. 

“I’m not listening to you,” Lilith replies, her eyes narrowing as she turns back to Angel, making sure she’s okay before looking back to the man. “Your little friends survived that fall. Go stay with them. I’m sure they’ll love to have you.” 

“Again!” Tim shouts, his eyes burning dangerously. “You just _think_ you kn-know everything! You think I-I wanted this?” 

He doesn’t know what possesses him. Maybe it’s the months of solitude. Maybe it’s pent up hurt, the pent up anger. But Tim reaches up and pulls off his mask. 

_“You did this!”_

Lilith is surprisingly shocked silent, her eyes widening just a bit as her eyes search his face. 

“I wasn’t like th-this!” Tim continues, his voice wavering dangerously, his anger growing. “You did t-this to me! You couldn’t h-have just killed him- you _had_ to make a point!” His chest heaves, his hand lifting as he points directly at the woman, practically snarling. 

“I’ll fucking leave,” He hisses, his anger foreign yet so welcome. “But y-you should know just how much m-my life became hell. This was _you.”_ He moves to put his mask back on, fixing it to cover the scar as he stood straight. 

Tim is startled still at just how much closer Angel is. She looks scared, her crystal eyes lined with tears. And she is stronger than Tim will ever be. She steps closer, nearly arms length away. 

“He di-did this to you?” She asks, her voice shaking. 

Tim swallows slowly. “He did,” He starts, daring to meet her gaze. “H-He gave m-me the scar, his f-face, everything.” He pauses, gathering the last of his courage as he looked her over, locking back on her eyes, nearly flinching at the haunting color. 

She turns back to Lilith, her long black hair moving with her figure. “You kn-know him?” 

Lilith nods reluctantly, her gaze on Tim. 

“He hunted the Vault on Elpis,” She mutters, “But he’s still Hyperion, fuck he even talks like him.” 

Angel frowns, and she speaks. Tim can’t connect the dots between her and Handsome Jack. 

“He h-hurt him too.” 

It’s nearly enough for Tim to double over, his throat getting significantly tighter, any words disappearing from mind. He watches Lilith falter slightly, her eyes locked on Angel’s. 

“We don’t owe him anything,” Lilith states, her voice softer. “I’ll take him somewhere safe, I promise.” 

Angel stares at the woman for another beat before turning back to Tim. She steps closer and Tim would step back if he could. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. Until he’s lifted the right sleeve of his Hyperion hoodie, turning his arm in her direction, his finger pointing at the freckle standing out amongst near-perfect skin. 

“I'm not him,” He stammers, a confession and a promise. “I-I di-didn’t do tho-those things to you.” 

Angel’s almost confused but she understands all the same. Her eyes lock on his desperate, _pained,_ gaze. She looks him over, watching his every move as he lowers his sleeve once more. 

The teenager turns around to Lilith and she speaks.

“I want to talk to him.” 

* * *

It takes nearly a month before Angel is able to meet Tim’s gaze evenly. It takes a month and a half for her to no longer jump at the sound of his voice. 

Tim still isn’t used to no longer being alone. 

The two had a weird routine. Lilith would visit almost daily, helping Angel control her powers once more. The two had little answers as to how she came back to life, each giving Tim an equally confused shrug. Lilith called it a blessing, seemingly more than eager to have another Siren around. 

Tim was sort of thankful the woman visited often enough. She’d bring food for them to cook and even brought Brick once to expand the little hole of a home to have more rooms. Tim had more outfits than he needed, not that he would ever complain, and even a few supplies to have a functioning kitchen. 

He still didn’t talk to her. 

Angel, on the other hand, had grown rather quickly to be _incredibly_ curious about Tim. 

The younger teen would sometimes just follow him around, even going as far as to stare at him for minutes at a time, much to his own chagrin. Tim wouldn’t dare ever say anything, chalking it up to being the very real coping method the girl had. He didn’t mind, as long as she was happy and okay with him still. 

He really didn’t wanna be alone again. 

It’s when Angel asks for a room of screens to observe the world from her little home does Tim hear her first ever laugh. She had a fascination with watching, her obsession awarded in the form nearly twenty-five cameras set up across Pandora. Angel would spend hours, her knees to her chest as she watched the world around her float by. 

Lilith had stated that Angel wasn’t quite ready to be around people. That she was scared and wanted to stay with the Crimson Raiders at all times. The middle ground turned out to be Tim’s temporary home. Somewhere she was both safe from the outside world and where she could grow her powers.

So the two would spend afternoons sitting in desk chairs, watching Pandora slowly move on. They’d watch a pack of Bullymongs cross the desert, a group of Psycho’s blowing up a car. They had even caught one of the Vault Hunter’s once in the desert, riding an Outrunner into the horizon, Angel repeating nearly every fact about them outloud as if they had been longtime friends.

Angel would laugh and Tim would promise himself to hear that noise again no matter what it took. 

“Bottom, third from the right,” Tim speaks, his chin in his palm as he lazily pointed to the screen. “Whatcha thinks gonna happen? Skag fight or are they hunting?”

Angel sat up, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the screen. She bit her lip, looking for a long, silent second, before sitting back in her chair, swiveling it a bit. 

“Definitely hunting,” She spoke, nodding her head. “You can tell, look at the Alpha. It’s not looking at the other Skags but at the ground. Smelling.”

Tim hummed a note, tapping his cheek. “Huh,” He murmurs, sparing a glance at the teenager. “I didn’t even notice. Good catch.”

And Tim’s glad he looks over. He’s glad he catches the same half-smile on her lips, her eyes locked on the screen, oblivious to Tim’s gaze. 

Tim looks back to the screen, his own small smile on his lips as he watches the Skags disappear off the screen. 

* * *

The first time Angel touches Tim, he’s nearly shocked silent for the rest of the day. He carried his guilt on his shoulders, always making sure to keep his distance and never raise his voice around Angel. He used her full name, addressed her in a quiet or joking tone only. 

So when Angel wakes up and bumps shoulders with him as he makes breakfast for them both, he’s nearly shaking. He covers it up with a quip, once again accusing her of sleeping in despite the lack of real itinerary, and continues to cook in the furnace.

Angel disappears with Lilith to her room soon after, boasting about just how strong she was now despite the missing marks on the lower half of her body. 

Tim resides in their ‘entertainment’ room, as he liked to call it. He stares over the various screens, not exactly focused on anything, his heart still racing. 

He definitely cared about Angel. The way one cares for a small lost baby animal. He had his urges to take care of her, to protect her from any harm that could potentially befall her. Sometimes he’d nearly reach over to playfully jostle her shoulder or make a joke. 

But Tim would never go that far, not with just how violently it could backfire. 

What Tim and Angel had was delicate and Tim wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. 

Tim doesn’t know why he’s smiling but he is. 

He decides to make Angel’s favorite meal for dinner that day. 

* * *

The lights in the fortress all flickered on and off, the screens in their beloved entertainment room buzzing in and out of focus. Tim ignores it all as he leaves his bedroom, nearly tripping as he sprints over to Angel’s bedroom. The door is unlocked, as it always is, yet shut. 

Tim can still hear her pained screams through the wood.

He doesn’t hesitate to push open the door, knowing full well the teenager was still asleep. Still, Tim makes sure to sit on the very edge of her bed, just beside her chest, and turn his face away. He’s quick to shake her arm, hoping to wake her up by the movement alone.

Angel sits up with a cut-off scream and Tim is already back in the doorway, his hood over his head, looking away from the teen. 

He strains his voice, begging it to sound like how it used to, to do _anything_ to not be like the source of their nightmares.

“A-Angel,” Tim croaks, feeling her eyes on him already. His hands are raised in front of him, hoping she was back in the right state of mind as he nearly begs. “I-It’s ok-okay- you-you’re safe.” 

A hiccup echoes from the other side of the room and it takes all of Tim’s strength not to look over. 

“I-It’s Tim, y-you know me?” He asks, straining his voice again. “Y-You know wh-where you are?” 

A sniffle sounds out and Tim bites down on his lip, screwing his eyes shut.

“T-Tim?” 

He’s not strong enough as he turns to look at her, his hood still up as he locks on her wide eyes. She flinches anyway, nearly sending Tim into his own meltdown as he forces himself to nod. 

“Y-Yeah, Angel,” He speaks, his hands shaking. “I-It’s Tim.” 

Silence falls on the pair, Tim looking her over. He watches the way she cuddles the blanket closer, her palm moving up to her eyes, digging in as she sniffled. Tim wants nothing more than to run over and hold her, to tell that child that she was okay, that there was nothing here that could hurt her.

But Tim was Tim. And he was never granted the luxury of love or comfort in his life. 

“H-Hey, T-Tim?” The teen whimpers, bringing Tim out of his mental sabotage. Their gazes meet once again.

“C-Can you- Can you sh-show me-” 

Tim already knows what she’s asking. He crosses the room, stopping a good foot away from the bed before pulling back his right sleeve, turning his arm to face her. He watches as she looks over his skin, sniffling again before nodding. 

“I-It’s okay,” Tim murmurs, and he tries not to cry himself. “I-It’s just me.” 

Angel nods, taking in a shuddery breath before looking back up to the man. She looks between him and the space beside her, a new look in her eyes.

“C-Can you sit?” 

Tim doesn’t know if his speed was humanly possible, his legs carrying him the last few inches to the bed, promptly sitting down beside her. Angel’s legs are to her chest, her hair braided into two braids that rested just past her shoulders. She scoots to be shoulder and shoulder with the man. 

Tim is nowhere near ready for the way her head connects with his shoulder, her sniffles growing in volume as she almost flinches. He looked between her and his arm, his eyes widening. 

He doesn’t have much say as Angel’s hands maneuvered his arm around her, snuggling in between his side and his arm with another sniffle. 

Tim has never done anything like this before but he finds himself replicating what he’s seen with others. His hand gently rubs her upper arm, forcing his breaths to stay even as he fell further and further away from his element. He watches as she pulls his right arm, dragging it across his lap and landing in hers, her hand pulling back his hoodie as she stared down at his skin. 

Tim doesn’t protest the sudden touch, his mind begging him to do any and everything to keep the teen safe, no matter the cost. 

Angel’s thumb brushes over his freckle for a beat, her throat moving as she swallowed slowly before shutting her eyes, nestling into Tim’s side. 

Tim holds onto the child in his grip, signing a silent vow to never let any harm befall her ever again.

* * *

It was no secret that Tim often felt that he wasn’t allowed to mourn a life of could have beens. He chose this, despite the lie he was told, he still agreed to work with Hyperion. He agreed, hoping the ‘small surgery’ would pay off his loans and be enough to make his mother care for him. 

He was wrong of course but Tim couldn’t help his pathetic ways.

The days where he’d have enough courage to take off his mask, to stare into the ice, his gaze as haunting as it had always been. 

He still didn’t understand how Angel hadn’t killed him yet. 

Tim sits on the edge of the couch, dully poking at the fire as he awaits the stew to finish. The day had been easy and Angel had even left for a good part of it, tagging along with Lilith into the wilds of Pandora. She returned, boasting about her adventure and just how much she enjoyed her time out. 

In a selfish, disgusting way, Tim was sad. 

There would come a day where Angel would leave and like the many other times he’d been left, he’d be forgotten. 

“Do you think you could live in the desert?” Angel asked, sitting on the end of the couch with her knees curled up to her chest, looking at the man with the same curious look as he always had. 

“Nah,” Tim answers, only to pause. “Unless we’re talking like New Oasis, then I’d go in a heartbeat.” 

Angel giggles and Tim still isn’t used to the joy it brings him. 

“How about you?” 

The teenager thinks for a beat, humming a note. “Maybe,” She starts, tilting her head. “But I want there to be a lot of people. It can’t be a ghost town or I’d just get bored.” 

Tim snorts. “You like people a lot more than most people.” 

“And you hate people a lot more than most people,” She countered, meeting his gaze with raised brows.

Tim only shakes his head, forcing himself to smile as he stirred the large pot with the metal ladle. It’s quiet for a beat and he’s almost scared he’s upset her on accident. 

“Would you ever go outside with me?” 

Tim stops, or rather freezes, the question a daunting one. He’d thought about it himself a few times, even going as far as to mess with the New-U station that had been set up in the back of the fortress. He had caught himself once, after Angel had gone to bed, punching in the key for Sanctuary, only to stop himself.

“Maybe if you found me a good doctor,” He settles on, forcing a chuckle past his lips. 

“I’m serious.”

Tim turns around and Angel is practically beside him, her arms crossed over her stomach as she looked almost… _sad._

“Angel, you know-” Tim starts, only to stop, sighing heavily. He fixes himself so that his knee is up on the couch, half crossed over as he meets her crystal eyes.

“It’s different,” He tries, shaking his head a bit. “You… You’re young and you’ve got a whole life ahead of you!” He pauses, nearly doubting himself as the teenager frowned. “There’s… you know why I can’t.” 

“You could wear a hood!” Angel argues, incredibly passionate in her fight. “We could go a-at night, when it’d just b-be us two.” She shakes her head, growing excited. “Th-There’s a whole _world_ out there! So much to see and discover- The Crimson Raiders even want to go to space!” 

Tim shakes his head. “I’ve been there, it’s not as great as everyone says it is.”

Angel’s frown only deepens. 

“Trust me, I hate hiding in here,” Tim begins, already exhausted of the conversation at hand. “But it’s just… I’m just being honest with myself.” He looks to the fire, swallowing away any argument. “I’ll leave one day, maybe… maybe another year. Or two. When people forget what this face means.” 

“And if they don’t forget?” 

Tim can’t help his shrug, his gaze on the furnace. “Then I live my life the way I always have,” He answers, turning his head back to face her. “A life of loneliness and subpar stew.” 

Angel didn’t laugh, nor did she smile, and Tim only feels worse. He deflates, shutting his eyes for a beat. 

“What do you want me to say, Angel?” He asks, defeated. “I can’t change the way I look or sound. I-I’ve tried breaking my nose, it doesn’t work!” Tim can feel his frustration growing, not at the teenager, but at himself and his inability to be like everyone else. He takes in a deep breath, Angel still staring into his eyes, unfazed.

“If I can tell the difference, why can’t everyone else learn to?” She starts, her frown deepening. “You can’t live here forever! You’re allowed to explore and find things that make you happy–” 

Tim sighs, and he’s thankful Angel’s comfortable enough that he can hold her forearm ever so gently. She stops and Tim’s nearly scared he’s frightened her, only for her to take his hand into hers, squeezing tightly. 

“Please,” She murmurs, and her voice is barely a whisper. 

Tim swallows slowly, unable to hold her intense gaze. He looks to his lap, his growing hair falling past his eyes as he sighs. 

“Angel…” 

“It doesn’t have to be now!” She assures quickly, growing excited. “M-Maybe in a few months, wh-when Oasis isn’t so hot! We can go together.” She scoots closer, nodding as a wide grin grew over her lips, Tim meeting her gaze once more. “I-I can take you! They’ve got a whole city there again- the water’s fixed!” 

“We can swim and explore the desert,” She continues, smiling widely. “I-I can even show you the pirates!” 

Silence falls over the two and Tim can’t stand it. He can’t stand the way Angel’s smile starts to falter as he fails to get his words together. 

And Tim doesn’t know what to say. He looks over the child ahead of him, the child who grew up in pain and misery. He thinks about her past, her torture. He thinks about how the same monster is responsible for their unique broken and mangled sense of self. He thinks about just how far back he held them _both_ back. 

Tim swallows the lump in his throat, his words shaking despite his forced playful tone. 

“I-I better not r-run into Sand Worms,” He speaks, watching in real-time as the teen’s smile bounced back “I’m not a f-fan of anything that slithers.” His eyes widen as Angel claps her hands quickly, practically shaking before all but jumping forward.

Tim is nowhere near prepared for the hug Angel gives him. He freezes up on instinct, the girl’s arms around his upper back, leaning forward from where she sat, hugging him with all the strength she had, her chin on his shoulder. He feels his hands shakingly rise up, resting on her back. 

It’s only a few seconds but Tim vows to hold onto that feeling for the rest of his life. 

Angel sat back, still beaming despite the slight flush of her cheeks. Her eyes are wide, speaking almost too fast, stumbling over her words.

“W-We gotta plan it!” She exclaims, her hands together once more. “I-I gotta think- ooh! Should we go at night? It’d be cooler but-” She scrambles to grab her notebook off the ground, her pen already in hand. “- I have to ask Mordecai what he thinks! He’s been there more than once, and oh! Maya too!” 

He hides the shaking of his hands well, his eyes memorizing the smile on Angel’s face as she talks mostly to herself, planning a future getaway for them both. 

Tim would make a mental note to never say no to her again. 

* * *

Tim sits on the end of Angel’s bed, he’s reciting one of the various _decent_ stories he has from his childhood. Ones about him being his old rascally self on his home planet. He keeps out the details regarding his mother, sticking to childhood antics and mischief. 

Tim had discovered early on just how much Angel loved to _know things._ He knew she was curious from the start, but over the last few months Angel had become more and more curious about _Tim._ She would ask about his childhood, about his favorite food and his favorite hobbies. 

It quickly became a nightly routine for Tim to tell Angel a story before bed, his stories ranging from childhood fun to life-threatening experiences as an adult, those that didn’t involve Hyperion of course. 

It was his favorite time of the day. 

His mind is lost in the story that he doesn’t recognize the should-be lying down teenager sitting up, her hand reaching for his messy hair. He jolts at the contact, looking at Angel with wide eyes as she holds a few strands between her fingers. His confusion only grows as she inspects the hair, meeting his gaze with a near-smile. 

“They’re gray.” 

And Tim stares, his heart nearly stopping as he locks his eyes on the hair in her hand. He reaches for the strands himself, barely able to pull them any closer to his crossed eyes. His whole figure goes still and he knows Angel can tell he’s freaking out. 

Handsome Jack never had gray hair. 

“Guess you’re getting old,” Angel murmurs, her voice nearly a whisper. 

Tim let’s go of the strands, dropping his hands to his laps as he turns to look at her. His eyes still wide, his heart slamming a mile a minute in his chest. 

And Tim dissolves into a fit of laughter, his whole body shaking as he felt his eyes prick with tears. Angel joins in almost immediately, her giggles growing into full blown echoing laughs. The two continue to laugh and shake, Tim eventually losing the strength as he falls back against the mattress, holding his aching stomach with both arms. 

Angel’s laughs taper off first but her smile doesn’t waver as she looks over the man, watching as he wipes away tears from his eyes. 

“You be-better find a good retirement home f-for me,” Tim jokes, looking over as giggles continue to break through his words. 

Angel beams, her eyes crinkling not too unalike the way Tim’s did too.

**Author's Note:**

> To start, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my little fic here. You can find me on tumblr @ ewbie.tumblr.com where I often take prompt requests. Onto some notes! 
> 
> Tim is a super, duper, interesting character and I was sad to see his role in the DLC was all he got in the fifth (?) installment of the series. It felt rather last minute, a cash grab if you will, and I wanted to explore my own ‘what-ifs’ of Tim’s fate. The recurring freckle is his desperate and sole physical reminder that despite how he looks, he is still him. He’s still Timothy Lawrence and he always will be. Of course, the graying hairs at the end signify just how through the year and a half or so, Tim is slowly healing.  
> Hyperion is (or was) known for being ruthless so the idea of all of Handsome Jack’s clones being killed struck me as most plausible. Tim of course is a fighter, and I would see him being put to work at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. A disgrace and stain to Hyperion and the once glory it had. Of course when Helios falls, so does Tim. But what goes down sometimes has the opportunity to go up!
> 
> I am not too sure if Athena and Tim would really get along this well but a part of me wishes they would. They both have a burning hatred for Handsome Jack and an equal distaste for the Crimson Raiders (specifically Lilith). I know Janey absolutely loves Tim and I feel like she would be a wonderful middle ground for the two. Not to mention their old Vault Hunting days. Tim had few friends, Nisha, Claptrap, Athena etc., but I know he misses them. And yes, he most definitely has a barely hidden crush on our resident Bartender ;)
> 
> Angel was brought in for the sole reason of the near-miss interactions they could have had. They have shared trauma from the same man and from Hyperion, not to mention both were never given the opportunity to grow into who they truly are. I think Angel would be a fantastic foil to Tim, as he would be to her, despite the hardships they both face. I also genuinely believe them both to be just absolutely kind souls who I wish could’ve gotten a happy ending. She is around 17 in this fic :) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! This is a little sort-of companion piece to my Rhys fic I did that follows a similar format with his struggles. I really do hope you enjoyed! Please drop a kudos/comment & follow <3 !!!


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